Dillan works his usual magic on the door - which isn't locked although there is a bolt (unfastened) on the inside. This is an empty privy once used by the guards... there doesn't seem to be anything in here.

The Rogue smiles, interlocks his fingers and stretches them outward; releasing a small popping sound as his knuckles crack. "Now this may prove worth our time I think." Pulling his tools from his pack he sets about the task...

Take all the time you wish, Dillan... you find that you need it! But eventually the lock releases.

Cautiously opening the door reveals an exit to an external balcony. A large, rectangular block of stone rests on this weather-beaten stone balcony, while ruined wooden benches line the eastern wall under a row of tiny, barred windows above. A stout wooden door sits in the wall near the northern end of the balcony.

"Let's see if arrows do anything to it." Sorin pulls back his bowstring and fires an arrow at the scythe. He groans as his fingers slip on the wet string and the shot goes sailing off the balcony.
Attack (Shortbow)1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5Damage (Shortbow)1d6 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5

The blood drains from Tre's face as he sees yet another object rise and threaten his friends. Knowing his spells have seemed useless against such an object in the past, he takes his shortbow and fires at the thing.

Sorin drops his bow and pulls out his shortspear to take a stab at the hands and scythe. Though there may not be anything left after Barrett is done with it.Attack (Shortspear)1d20 ⇒ 6Damage (Shortspear)1d8 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1

Barret's onslaught does indeed rend the scythe asunder. The skeletal arms clatter to the floor, devoid once more of life - no response even if stirred around a bit with Dillan's sword and/or Sorin's spear.

Silence falls. Just the drip of rain...

... then a sudden clatter of wings as a bedraggled-looking raven perches on the balcony, looking at you with beady eyes. It opens its beak, says "CAW!" loudly, then flaps off again.

The western cellblock: row upon row of ten-foot-square prison cells line the walls, each separated from the passing hallway by a series of iron bars fitted with a narrow iron door. Skeletons slump in many of the cells, the bones scattered where they lie and coated with a mixed layer of ancient ashes and fresh mould.

Most of the iron cell doors are rusted shut and difficult to open, but some hang open, having fallen away over the years. At one point you see a wood & iron ladder leading up to a trapdoor above.

"They may have been prisoners, but what a terrible way to die. We have a task now, but when we are done, I feel we should see to it that these remains receive a proper burial. This could be part of the reason, this prison is so cursed. Do you all want to go up or continue with these cells."

Merian nods agreement at Sorin's words, and murmurs a brief prayer of benediction over the remains. "If they were justly imprisoned here," she says, "by any standards they've paid the penalty for their crimes, and deserve the respect we'd show any soul in similar circumstances."

Considering the trapdoor, she adds, "Back out into the rain again, you think?"

Dillan climbs up to check the trapdoor, the rest of you waiting at the foot of the ladder. He finds that a bolt alone fastens it, rusted but still able to move... but even once withdrawn, the trapdoor does not budge.